EBS 2nd Anniversary Challenge - Second Fiddle OS
by Daphodill
Summary: I promised myself that the second time we did this we would be in control, and do our best to fully enjoy the experience. Well, you know what they say about best laid plans...


**EBS's 2nd Anniversary Challenge**

**Vote for me here: buff {dot} ly/XnNPcp**

**Entry type: Twilight**

**Name of entry: Second Fiddle**

**Primary prompt: Second time around**

**Secondary prompt: No dialogue tags**

**Categories: Family, humo**r

* * *

SECOND FIDDLE O/S  
by Daphodill

Things were going so much smoother this time around. No rushing, no panic. Everything was just...chill. For a few hours we sat, cuddled up in bed watching Animal Planet and eating popsicles.

Suddenly, I was hit with a painful cramp. The missus offered me ice water, looking at me with worry. I shook my head and began to sweat profusely. Jumping up, I raced to the bathroom to empty my stomach. After a few minutes, my wife hobbled after me to blot my brow and place a cool rag on the back of my neck. I sighed in relief but quickly shooed her out of the room. I needed a moment alone.

As she closed the door I heard someone chastise her for being out of bed. My wife explained that I was in_intestinal distress_. I sat on the toilet with the wastebasket in my lap as my body violently expelled the cursed pollo-pollo burrito that I'd recently feasted on.

After a few minutes, I stumbled out to find my wife back in bed, surrounded by busy nurses. I laid down on the sofa, too weak to stand by her side. Someone took pity on me, offering me ginger ale and blotting my brow.

With my eyes barely open, I spied my wife propped up with her arms folded across her chest and a scowl upon her face. Her feet were in stirrups while her doctor poked and prodded.

Tugging his gloves off, the doctor came over to me and took my vitals. I heard my wife call out that I was having a bout of food poisoning from the technicolored salsas I insisted on pouring onto my burrito. I called her a smartass as I heaved into the pan that one of the nurses so kindly held out for me.

They all cooed and coddled as I groaned and writhed in pain. I may have equated my pain to something worse than childbirth. My wife, now strapped to a multitude of devices, firmly reminded me that she was the one who was, in fact, in labor. The nurses returned their attention to my wife, reminding her not to use the bathroom and pointing out the emergency buttons.

At the mention of bathroom, I bolted back there for another round of retching. After several tortuous minutes, I was interrupted by someone banging on the door. My wife was urging me to get up. I told her no, but she busted in anyway. The nerve of some people.

She firmly stated that she was not going to take a dump in a bedpan like the first time, explaining that she was in control and felt good, compared to the last time. I countered with the nurse's directives, adding that I didn't want my kid being born on the can. She practically shoved me off the seat, giving me barely enough time to clean myself up and flush. I sat on the floor across from her while she pinched her nose at my offending odor.

Relief washed across her face as she finished with her business and practically danced back to bed, towing her IV stand and monitors with her. She settled in just as the nurses returned and spotted me on the bathroom floor. My wife huffed in annoyance as I settled back on the sofa. I may have tattled on her, I can't be sure…

A nurse sat with me, trying to keep me hydrated and lucid. I kept drifting off, waking only to dash back into the bathroom. I chanced a glance at my wife, who was peacefully concentrated on her crossword puzzle. I collapsed back down on the sofa and noticed her grip on the book tighten. Her lovely face twisted in pain. I tried to stand up and go to her, but the room pitched and I fell back onto the sofa. She called out to me with worry.

Before I knew what was happening, I was hooked up to an IV of my own. It provided a bit of relief; at least the dizziness was subsiding, but I could barely keep my eyes open. The late hour and physical exhaustion ,brought on by my intestinal acrobatics, overtook me.

I was roused by an awful racket. The doctor assessed me once again, complimenting my more healthy looking, although still sallow, pallor. A pair of nurses moved to help me stand beside my wife. The nurses teased that I would have slept through the birth of my child.

When I finally shuffled across the room, I was greeted with a smug grin and a head shake. I took the missus' hand and kissed it. She reminded me that she still loved me, even though she and our baby presently were playing second fiddle to my tummy.

After a bit of teasing by the doctor and nurses, I held my wife's leg as she grunted, groaned, and pushed. It didn't take long before the doctor placed a gooey, writhing mess on my wife's belly. I blinked a few times and turned to the doctor asking what it was. He said we had another daughter as he thrust a pair of scissors into my hand.

Gorgeous wasn't a grand enough word to describe my daughter's beauty. Her thick, dark hair was plastered to her head like a skull cap and curled slightly at the ends; a striking contrast to her pale skin and ruddy, chubby cheeks.

With the dawn came my mother-in-law and the newly anointed big sister. My first born ran to me and stroked my cheek. Worry etched across her sweet little face; she was much too serious for a three year old. She fed me crackers and apple juice while she rubbed my face and tummy. My mother-in-law tried to stifle her laughter but quickly joined my daughter in doting on me.

My wife advised our newborn daughter, in a whisper, to not be offended because everybody played second fiddle to Daddy.

####

* * *

**Beta'd by Nlr287bells & Simply Paranoia**

**This little bit of silliness happened to my husband and I during the birth of our second child/second daughter. Our first birthing experience was a terrifying emergency situation. We'd been through a lot to get to this point, and were doing our best to enjoy the entire experience this second time.**

**Insert your favorite character for the husband and wife. Personally, I feel like my Mr is my real life Emmett McCarty, so I've labeled it a Twilight fic.**

**I appreciate any and all feedback! **


End file.
